I don't like spam.
I'm not talking about the mystery meat-in-a-can that you fry up with eggs and bacon.
I mean the stuff that gets served to my email inbox every morning, afternoon and night.
I try to stop it, but it's like trying to keep ants out of my house. Every time I block off one place that they're coming from, they find another way in. I must get a hundred junk emails every day.
I do not need penile enlargement (although I have to admit that I know several people who do.) I do not want to buy prescription drugs from "reliable" overseas pharmacists who have no vowels in their names and whose license numbers are suspiciously similar to the format used by San Quentin for prisoner IDs. I do not believe for a moment that there is a sick child in Spain who has been collecting emails for fourteen years as his "dying wish." Nor can you convince me that I've won three million dollars in Nigerian Lottery, that Mr. Nivranskinashak Minrovernia of Flakelovakia has left me his estate and only needs my bank account number to deliver my funds or that I will receive a free computer simply by forwarding an email to two hundred people. I do not need to be warned about going to a party, getting drunk and waking up in a tub of ice water missing my kidneys. I am not falling for your claim that someone in Peru tried to use my Visa card, my Paypal account has been locked or that my Facebook password needs updating so that I can sign on to your un-secure server and supply you enough personal information to arm you for identity theft. And no, I do NOT want to 'meet my soul mate in seven days', 'hook up with hot studs in my area' or 'see what Bambi is doing on her webcam.'
Offers and spam. Warnings and spam. Spam, prizes, porn and spam. Spam spam spam spam spam.